


11.22 coda

by ozonecologne



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Closure, Coda, Daddy Issues, Depression, Gen, Season/Series 11 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2016-05-23
Packaged: 2018-06-10 07:57:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6946534
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ozonecologne/pseuds/ozonecologne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uh so since I heard that Castiel doesn’t get any closure with Chuck this season, I’ve decided to just write it myself. Because what shit honestly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	11.22 coda

Dean had insisted on the blanket again. And you know, Cas really didn’t mind it this time. He curled into himself beneath it, trying to recapture some warmth for his vessel, trying to thaw out the frost that Lucifer had left behind in the rafters of him. He could hear the brothers’ hushed voices in the other room, and he picked at the loose threads along the edge of his blanket instead of joining them. Instead of listening. He’d gotten very good at blocking them out over the last few weeks.

It felt nice to be cared for, and comforted.

His musing was disrupted by uneven footsteps, and a hunched, war-torn body hovering in the doorway.

“Hey, Cas,” Chuck said.

Castiel looked up at the sound of his name, and immediately lowered his eyes again when he registered Chuck’s sad look. Sympathy, sure, and the concern in Dean’s eyes was manageable. Expected even, at this point.

But pity in his Father’s gaze? No, he would never be comfortable with that.

“Chuck,” he croaked back softly.

Chuck crossed the library in a few strides and pulled out the chair opposite to where Castiel was sitting. He folded himself into it with ease - he knew this wood, he knew these particles, all of them. Even injured and diminishing, the world folded itself around his mass and weight.

He settled as if he belonged here: a resident in the home Castiel still felt like a guest in. How he envied him.

“How are you feeling, son?”

Castiel shrugged deeper into his blanket. He wore it around himself like armor. “I could ask you the same thing.”

Chuck shrugged, too. “I’m…Well. Dying. But never mind. It’s been Me Me Me for too long. I’d rather hear about you.”

Castiel grimaced. Chuck’s voice was sweet and gentle, his smile sincere and affectionate. The lines around his eyes softened him. “You know, I can’t believe how much you’ve changed. Just in the past few years, too.”

That’s right, they’d met before. Back during the apocalypse, in that ramshackle house packed with clues he wasn’t smart enough to find and sieged by archangels he wasn’t strong enough to fight.

“What do you mean,” he asked, feigning interest.

Chuck gestured to him happily. “You… emote more. You’re more comfortable in your skin. It’s nice to see. Encouraging, even.”

 _Why?_ he couldn’t help thinking, spitefully. “Dean tells me that Lucifer is your favorite.”

Chuck rolled his eyes. “Oh, he chooses _now_ to be honest,” he grumbled. “I did say that,” he finally admitted.

Castiel slumped. Of course it was true. Dean wouldn’t lie just to hurt him on purpose, not anymore, not about something as sensitive as his Father. He loathed using family as ammunition, but he did try to warn him.

 _Expendable,_ Ambriel had said. They all were; she was right. If Dad was playing favorites, no one else ever mattered. At least, that’s how it felt.

“But, Cas,” Chuck said, leaning forward. “That doesn’t mean - you’re - I mean - agh.”

Castiel peeked up and Chuck was dragging a hand down his face. He had dark circles under his eyes, charring along his temples where Amara’s power had torn at him. He looked _tired_. Worn down.

“I don’t have the best judgment. Amara wasn’t wrong about that.”

Castiel tilted his head. “She actually said you have terrible taste in men.”

“She’s right about that too,” Chuck nodded, getting a far off look. “In a lot of ways, heh.”

He shook his head again, dislodging those memories. “Lucifer was my first. My favorite. The brightest star in the dark, yadda yadda. I loved him most, I trusted him more than any other.” Chuck’s eyes grew dark. “I put him high above the other angels - unjustly - and in the end he suffered for it.”

Castiel breathed in deeply. The dust of the library, the ash and the static wafting off of Chuck’s very being. He wouldn’t ever get used to sitting in his Father’s presence. Some time ago that may have awed him.

“He deserved to,” Castiel assured him. “Even after the mark was removed, Lucifer proved faithless and wicked.”

Chuck barked a long laugh, and Castiel only blinked in response. “Maybe so,” Chuck said, with a touch of sadness. He looked up to meet Castiel’s eyes again, and this time Cas only stared back, like a planet looped into the pull of a black hole.

Chuck opened his mouth and said something Castiel would never have cared to hear.

“You know, you almost never existed.”

Castiel could feel himself deflating. “I know. Naomi told me as much. I was made wrong.” He shook his head and wrapped the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “I know the humans say that God doesn’t make mistakes. But most humans have never met me, either, so that’s understandable.”

Chuck pursed his lips. “You _were_ made... differently. I wasn’t - well, maybe I was a little high that day or something, but I wasn’t paying attention and you came out kind of… crooked. You were a goofy looking kid,” Chuck teased. Castiel grimaced.

“I thought for sure you’d be a disaster,” Chuck confessed, sliding backwards into his chair and splaying his arms. “I looked at Lucifer - perfect, bright, powerful - and I looked at you and I thought, ‘There’s no way this one is going to do good things.’”

Castiel bit his lip. “It was true. The only thing I seem to be good at is ruining things.”

Chuck shook his head frantically and sat up again, pin straight and practically vibrating. “But that’s just it! Don’t you get it, Castiel? I trusted Lucifer. I had total confidence everything he was. I fell in love with my own gift for creation. And you know what? He let me down. Everything I believed in was _wrong._

“But you!” Chuck exclaimed, smile slow and genuine sliding up his tired face. “You did what no one else did. You _listened._ ”

Castiel held his breath as Chuck reached across the table and put one of his hands on his. “You've loved humanity more deeply than any other being I've encountered, Castiel. I see so much of myself in you. You are the most loyal, the most _colorful_ . It's _because_ of how you were made that you became the best of all the angels. I can’t even take credit for you! You’re too much your own.”

Chuck squeezed his trembling hand. “My beautiful little miracle. I'm sorry ever doubted you, Cas.”

Chuck nodded decisively. “You deserve better than that.”

Thus spake the Lord.

Castiel blinked and was astonished to find that he was crying. Tears, hot and thick, stained his cheeks. His face, this skin, had been weathered rough by the elements and by war, by pain and by persistence. He was almost proud to stare at Chuck through its gaze, this fleshy map of the life he crafted for himself.

“I looked for you,” he said, voice no louder than a hoarse whisper. “You abandoned me.”

Chuck hung his head, as if in shame. Imagine that: God, ashamed. Regretful. And for a lowly angel’s sake. “I heard you. I know. I guess I just wanted to see if you could do it. If you could make it on your own like I'd always hoped.”

Castiel laughed bitterly, and finally raised a hand to wipe his face. “Lucifer wasn't the only angel who tried to play God, you know. I was… I was terrible. I knew everything, and still I didn't know myself.”

Chuck smiled encouragingly. “Power does that to you. And…” He licked his lips. “I know it's not what I'm known for or anything, but I just wanted to let you know: I forgive you, Cas. For everything. Because of everything you are.”

Castiel finally let out the breath he'd been holding.

He looked at his father's honest, forgiving face and squared his shoulders. It was time for him to move on. To prove to the both of him that he was worthy of the respect he was being shown at long last.

“I forgive you too, Chuck.”

He squeezed down on his father's hand, and the voices died down in the other room.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also on tumblr here.


End file.
